


Our Secret

by Bil1801



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Best Friends, F/F, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Romantic/sexual tension, Shadow-Weaver is an abusive mother as usual, Some minor angst I guess, These two are just adorable honestly, secret crushes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24493903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bil1801/pseuds/Bil1801
Summary: It was never meant to happen.Or maybe it was. Maybe it was destiny. Or just random circumstance. Worlds colliding.Two-toned eyes, wiry limbs, and nervous faltering words; everything had been dark and cold, until Catra arrived, and brought unprecedented light into Adora's world.Edit: ***DISCONTINUED***Proceed with caution :/
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 219





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I just finished watching She-Ra in the span of about three days, and wow. That was an emotional roller-coaster. I'm pretty much completely in love with Catradora right now, especially Catra. This is the first Catradora fanfiction I've ever written, so hopefully, it's not completely terrible. It's based on the idea that in the Horde, relationships and even friendships would probably have been strongly discouraged, as a source of weakness and a distraction, and that Shadow-Weaver would be especially bent on keeping Catra and Adora apart since she cared for Adora and felt that Catra might have been holding her back. So I guess it's a friends-to-lovers forbidden romance story? I hope it's decent, at least.

It was never meant to happen.

Or maybe it was. Maybe it was destiny. Or just random circumstance. Worlds colliding.

All Adora knew was metal pipework and narrow, claustrophobic hallways, shadows in dark corners, harsh judgemental words, a dark red mask dominating her world, perforated with deadly white eyes.

Until Catra tumbled into her world, small, scared, volatile Catra, and transformed it entirely. Two-toned eyes, wiry limbs, and nervous faltering words; everything had been dark and cold, until Catra arrived, and brought unprecedented light into her world.

Soon, all too soon, the Horde’s harshness beat the vulnerability from Catra, stole the tears from her eyes, molded her into someone else, someone to their liking, to their wanting.

Nervous words and shy demeanor slowly melted into haughty confidence and indifference, and Adora watched it happen.

But she was granted the rare privilege of seeing Catra’s vulnerable side, the emotions she struggled to keep hidden away. Only she would be graced with the sight of a shimmering light in those enchanting eyes, an actual smile shining through that arrogant smirk, a delicate touch lacing its way across her skin. Catra was still the only light Adora knew; had ever known.

Promises, vows, whispered into the dark of night; elusive touches when their guards faltered and the stress and pain of the Horde would become too much to bear. They were always each other’s constant support system, their bond stronger than anything else. Catra gave Adora love, and it infused her heart and gave her a chance at hope even when everything seemed impossible.

 _I love you._ The words were never spoken out loud but were instead expressed through every single shared glance, every single promise, every single teasing remark, and even every single argument, every single tear shed.

 _I love you._ Catra was the only certainty Adora had, in a world she couldn’t trust. Catra was everything.

Catra didn’t remember anything about her past, and she didn’t care. All she knew was bright blue eyes, a gentle smile, and promises of endless devotion, weaving into the very fabric of her heart.

Catra wasn’t quite sure how they became friends, but all she knew was that Adora became her reason for living. In the dark, living under the threat of a dark red mask and whispering black tendrils of hair, concealing an unknown enemy, Adora was so, blindingly, radiantly bright.

The Fright Zone was so dark, so dangerous, so deadly, and yet it became home, in a way. But it had nothing to do with the metal pipes, the narrow hallways, the rigid training, and the devotion drilled into her bones, and everything to do with a bright, bubbling laugh, sparkling eyes, and a hand pulling her along.

She would follow Adora to the end of her world, without hesitation. As she grew up, grew older, she saw clearly what lay ahead of her.

Strength. Power. Authority.

But really, when she dreamed about the future, all she could see was Adora. Her partner in crime, the one person who had taught her what it meant to love, to be loved in return. Pure, simple, beautiful.

Adora, Adora, Adora. Together, they would rule the world. And even if everything burned to the ground, it wouldn’t make a difference. Because they would be together, forever.


	2. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora and Catra are 8 years old and are lectured on how relationships weaken, and endanger, and damage everything, but Catra and Adora know that what they have couldn’t possibly hurt anything.  
> Rumours about a Force Captain who surrendered a great deal of land to save their friend in a battle stir in the Horde. Adora realizes she would do that in an instant to save Catra, and wonders if that makes her a less loyal soldier.

Catra’s tail whips out behind her as she races down the hallway, leaping along the rickety metal scaffolding, dashing along the wobbly metal pipework, secured with rusty iron bands.

Her claws scrape along metal as she turns a corner, and stumbles right into Shadow-Weaver.

“At last, you’re here.” Shadow-Weaver’s voice weaves into Catra’s ears, and she falls back, gasping for breath, and looks up into Shadow-Weaver’s piercing, blinding white eyes.

“Took you long enough, Catra,” Shadow-Weaver continues, her voice dragging out the syllables in Catra’s name in evident disdain. “Come along, now.”

Catra drops her eyes and trails along in Shadow-Weaver’s wake as the Horde sorceress leads the way into the room.

Inside, the other Cadets have formed a loose circle, and are watching Shadow-Weaver with apprehensive expressions. Catra’s gaze lights on Adora and she can’t help the smile that tugs on the corners of her lips.

Adora gives a small wave, her eyes sparkling like pure sunlight. Catra walks over and sits down beside her, and Adora’s hand intertwines with hers.

Catra smiles shyly in her direction, then looks up at Shadow-Weaver as the sorceress throws her arms wide at her sides. 

“This lecture is given to every single Cadet in the Horde at one point or another, and will be repeated throughout your lifetime,” Shadow-Weaver calls.

“What’s the point of that?” Lonnie asks, sounding vaguely bored as she toys with a metal band secured around her wrist.

“It’s vitally important, as you’ll see someday,” Shadow-Weaver narrows her eyes. “Here in the Horde, you have one mission. Defeat the Rebellion.”

“Obviously,” Lonnie pipes up again. Catra has to admire her boldness, despite her dislike towards the girl. Then she glances over at Adora, and something hot and sick churns in her stomach as she sees Adora staring at the other Horde Cadet with admiring eyes.

_ She’s mine,  _ Catra thinks, tightening her grip on Adora’s hand.

“And, as I’m sure you must know, no distractions can be allowed to disrupt your sole purpose,” Shadow-Weaver continues, clasping her hands together. “And relationships are a great distraction.”

Adora’s hand shoots up immediately, and Shadow-Weaver’s piercing gaze snaps to her. “Adora.”

“What do you mean?” Adora asks, her voice reflecting the bewilderment in her wide eyes. “Relationships are a strength, aren’t they? The closer we are to our team-mates - “

“Being able to rely on your team-mates isn’t necessarily a weakness,” Shadow-Weaver says slowly, “However, depending on a team-mate is.”

Her eyes fall on Adora and Catra’s linked hands, and a chill of danger ripples along Catra’s spine. 

“And being close to someone, caring about someone, is the greatest weakness possible in the Horde,” Shadow-Weaver growls, glaring straight at Catra, “So I would suggest you remember that. Trust is a liability. In a war, everyone can be your enemy, whether you know it or not. And sometimes, those closest to you are the true threat.”

Catra looks over at Adora and sees her looking back. Adora’s eyes are wide and bright, so curious, so  _ caring,  _ and Catra clutches onto her hand. There’s no way Adora could ever be her enemy. No way.

Adora seems to be thinking the same thing because she leans in so their shoulders connect. The contact sends warmth thrilling through Catra’s nerves.

“You cannot trust anyone,” Shadow-Weaver claps her hands, “Work as a unit, but at the end of the day, remember that this is a war. And to win a war, all focus must be solely on the goal. Relationships and whims of the heart are a distraction from any true quest, as you will learn.”

“Why is this message so important?” Lonnie asks, shoving Kyle in the shoulder as he starts stammering something out.

Shadow-Weaver inclines her head. There’s no way to judge her expression, but Catra can almost hear the smirk in her voice when she next speaks. “You’ll know, someday, I’m sure. Dismissed. For now. Go train.”

Catra stands up and helps Adora to her feet.

“Maybe Shadow-Weaver is right,” Adora says thoughtfully as they walk out into the hallway, “But if she is… if relationships really are bad, then why are you the only thing that can really make me happy here?”

Adora’s hand is warm, laced around Catra’s. “Maybe she’s wrong, then,” Catra replies, dropping her voice in case Shadow-Weaver might be lurking behind them, listening.

Adora glances over, and her eyes glimmer mischievously. “Maybe she is.”

“Race you to the training room?” Catra widens her eyes and lashes her tail.

Adora giggles. “You’re on!”

They race down the hallway together, their laughter ringing out, echoing back at them.

~ ~ ~

“Is it just me, or does everyone seem angrier than usual?” Adora asks, rubbing her arms as a strange chill seems to hang on the air.

Catra twitches her ears and looks around. “Well, Shadow-Weaver does, anyways.”

The sorceress glides past them as they speak, robes rippling around her like ink, wisps of darkness radiating from her body. Her shoulders are drawn back, and she looms over everyone else. A strange dark aura seems to pulse and waver around her.

“I know what’s going on!” 

Catra jumps up onto a nearby pipe and lets out a hiss as Kyle stumbles into view.

Catra jumps down, whips her bushed out tail around her ankles, and crosses her arms with a huff as if she didn’t just claw the nearest pipe to shreds. “What do you want, Kyle?”

“I know why everyone’s angry,” Kyle runs a hand through his blond locks, his eyes wide. “Apparently some Horde soldiers were defeated while trying to overtake a Northern outpost.”

“The Horde has lost before,” Adora says, scanning around and straining her ears. The anger humming on the air, the dissent in the low mumblings she can hear, the soldiers marching past with slits for eyes… this doesn’t seem like a usual defeat. “Normally they just gather their Troops and strike again. How come this particular loss has riled everyone up so much?”

Kyle’s voice becomes hushed. “Because not only did we fail to gain more ground, we actually lost land.”

“How?” Catra exclaims, “The Horde would never let that happen. The weak Rebels and their pathetic  _ Princesses _ would never stand a chance against us.”

“Because the Force Captain leading it surrendered the nearby outpost we had just won back, to save her  _ friend,”  _ Kyle answers, his eyes glittering as he gesticulates wildly with his hands.

“Traitor,” Catra grumbles, trailing her claws along the pipe and leaving deeply etched marks.

“Yeah, well, we’ll win it back,” Kyle says with a shrug. He seems more excited to be delivering juicy gossip than anything else; his voice lacks any sign of anger, and his eyes are sparkling.

“Kyle!” Adora recognizes Lonnie’s shout, ringing down the hall. Kyle winces and races away.

Catra taps her claws against the metal. “I can’t imagine betraying the Horde like that.”

“Yeah,” Adora agrees. And for a moment, self-righteous anger bubbles in her veins, at the traitor who dared to give away precious land to the sick, twisted Rebellion.

Then she looks over at Catra, at those two-toned eyes glittering in the green light, at her messy hair and the scratches on her uniform.

“But, maybe…” Adora says hesitantly, “If you were in danger. I would.”

Catra looks up. “You would?”

“Of course,” Adora answers unfalteringly. “Would… would you? For me?”

Catra rests her hand on Adora’s shoulder. “Yeah. I would. Does that mean we’re traitors? Like the Force Captain?”

Adora leans her forehead against Catra’s and laces their hands together. “I don’t know. Maybe. Who cares, as long as we have each other?”


	3. Simulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora and Catra are 10 years old and are put to the test in a simulation. Catra is cornered, and Adora forgets its a simulation and rushes to save her, leaving her current opponent behind.  
> Adora is lectured for it, and when Catra stands up for her, Shadow-Weaver verbally abuses her as well. When she's hurting after Shadow-Weaver is gone, Adora consoles her.

“Run!”

Adora stumbles as she spins around, and clumsily dodges out of the way as a beam of glowing light strikes the ground where she was only seconds prior.

With a ferocious shout, Lonnie leaps into the air, and climbs up the side, clutching at seams and ridges.

Adora grips onto her baton and stares up into the robot’s huge red eye.

Then she hears a familiar piercing yowl, and spins around, her heart hammering.

Her eyes land on Catra. The young Cadet is hissing as an enormous robot backs her into a corner, her tail whipping as she stares up with huge, scared eyes, the green light glowing in her two-toned irises.

“Adora!” Lonnie shouts, “Get over here!”

Adora whirls around as the robot advances on her, lowering its body and pinpointing her with its calculated eye.

She lunges at it and drives her baton towards its eye, but she misses and it glances harmlessly off the great metal body with a harmless crackle of electricity. She falls back, the breath driven from her lungs as she lands hard on the ground. 

Gasping, she struggles to her feet and sees Lonnie perched atop the robot, struggling to keep her hold. The robot creaks and wobbles, and Adora sees that Lonnie has driven her baton into its neck.

Adora prepares to strike the robot right through the eye, but a shriek causes her to spin around.

And as she does, she sees Catra soar through the air and land with a dull thud, causing dust to plume up around her. Adora’s heart races and she swallows hard; the rational part of her knows it’s a simulation, but she can’t shake the panic crawling its way up her throat.

“Adora!” Lonnie shrieks. “What are you doing?”

Adora ignores her and launches into motion, racing towards the robot as it bears down on Catra.

She leaps into the air, her heart pounding in her throat, and drives her baton straight into the robot’s eye.

The robot shudders, and electricity crackles along its bulky body. With a reluctant creak, it collapses and falls apart at the seams.

Adora lands and rushes over to Catra. “Are you okay?”

Catra sits up, looking bewildered. “You didn’t have to come help me. It’s just a simulation.”

Heat rises into Adora’s neck. “I know, but…”

“And I could have handled it on my own,” Catra narrows her eyes and squares her shoulders.

Adora retracts her offered hand, stung.

Catra drops her eyes and offers up a begrudging, “Thank you, though.”

Adora brightens. “Always.”

A loud creaking clamor arises, and both girls turn as one to see Lonnie’s chosen victim collapse in a tumble of chaotic limbs and clacking metal.

“Well done, Lonnie.” Adora’s heart clenches, and on instinct, she clutches at Catra’s hand as Shadow-Weaver glides into view.

“Thank you, Shadow-Weaver,” Lonnie dips her head respectfully.

“Rogelio, Kyle, try harder next time,” Shadow-Weaver barely spares the two boys a glance as she moves past them. They both step back apprehensively.

“Adora, Catra, stay,” Adora feels a chill ripple along her spine as Shadow-Weaver turns her white-eyed glare on Adora and Catra. “Everyone else dismissed.”

Adora and Catra exchange a nervous glance and draw closer to each other. Adora can feel the warmth radiating from Catra’s skin.

“Adora, dear,” Shadow-Weaver purrs as she draws closer. “You never fail these simulations. Are you growing weaker, I wonder?”

“What are you talking about?” Adora asks in bewilderment, picking up her weapon from where she discarded it on the ground. “I killed the robot. I saved Catra.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Shadow-Weaver says in her silky voice. “You were about to kill that other robot, but then you saw that Catra was in danger, and you went to save her. Nevermind that this is a simulation; you abandoned your opponent, which in combat could be deadly.”

“Yeah, but in real combat, you would want to save your team-mates.” Adora crinkles her brow.

“Not if it lost you the war.” Shadow-Weaver extends her hand and curls her cold, skeletal hand around the slope of Adora’s shoulder, and leans her head in close. “You have great potential, child, but you keep squandering it! You’re worth nothing without the Horde, and you won’t be worth anything at all if you can’t succeed in your training.”

Adora lowers her head and swipes angrily at her eyes as they well up with tears.

~

“Leave her alone!” Catra bursts out. Hot anger surges in her chest and swells in her throat, and she glares at Shadow-Weaver.

Slowly, the sorceress removes her hand and straightens up, and moves over to ruffle her hand through Catra’s hair. Catra stands, holding her breath, as an eerie chill freezes her limbs in place and turns her blood to ice.

“Oh, Catra, Catra.” Shadow-Weaver’s voice drips with disdain as she smooths her hand along Catra’s jaw, and cups her chin in one slow movement. “You can’t handle anything, and you’re holding Adora back.” She leans in and her voice drops to a hoarse whisper. “Isn’t it obvious that she’s stronger without you clinging to her?”

Catra clenches her jaw and blinks back tears. The words slice her to the bone, and she takes a step back to escape the suffocating closeness of the elder sorceress, the way her white eyes burn and seeth.

“Remember what I told you a few years ago,” Shadow-Weaver hisses as she straightens up and regards them both coldly. “Relationships are a weakness.”

The words echo in Catra’s ears as the Horde sorceress glides away once again, leaving a chill on the air and the burn of tears in Catra’s eyes in her wake.

Catra wipes at her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Adora asks. She reaches for Catra’s hands, but Catra pulls back, blinking the tears from her eyes.

“Catra!” Adora lunges to catch her around the wrist as she turns to run. “Catra, wait, please!”

Reluctantly, Catra turns back around, as Adora’s hand slides into hers. “Shadow-Weaver’s wrong, you know.”

“Maybe she’s not,” Catra tries to tug her hand away, but Adora holds on.

“She is!” Adora argues passionately, stepping closer. “You’re strong, and you’re brave and loyal, and dedicated, and just because Shadow-Weaver can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not true. You’re everything she says you’re not, trust me.”

Catra’s breath hitches as Adora reaches up to wipe a tear from her cheek. Her touch is warm and gentle, and Catra leans into it ever so slightly, closing her eyes; at that moment, she can’t think of a single thing in the whole world she would ever want for, other than this.


	4. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora and Catra are 12 years old. After Catra fails at a simulation, Shadow-Weaver calls it lack of effort, and yells at her, and blames Adora for trying to help her.   
> Together they sneak out, and just for a moment, wish there was somewhere else to go besides the Fright Zone.

Electricity crackles and hisses.

Catra clutches onto her baton and looks around.

The sound of footsteps causes her to whirl around, and she yelps as she sees electricity glowing in blue irises, and a baton raised over her head.

She throws up her own baton to counter Adora’s and pushes her back. “Cheater!”

Adora swings her baton, and electricity fries the air, reaching out dark red tendrils that snap and hiss menacingly inches from Catra’s eyes. “It’s not cheating, it’s called winning!”

Catra grits her teeth and dodges Adora’s blow then dives in to shock her, but Adora catches her around the ankle with a low blow, and she tumbles heavily against the smooth, glowing panels.

A foot kicks her baton away, and she rises to her knees as Lonnie looms over her, baton held over her head.

Catra sees her baton nearby and lunges for it, but Lonnie kicks her hard in the head, and she falls back, stars spinning in her eyes.

“You’re going to hurt her, Lonnie!” Adora yelps, kneeling down beside Catra.

Catra backs away and narrows her eyes at Adora. “Let me fight my own battles for once, Adora!”

Without waiting to see Adora’s reaction, she leaps into motion and dodges around Lonnie to pick up her baton from its place discarded carelessly on the tiles.

When she straightens up, she raises her baton in time to counter Lonnie’s blow. Lonnie pushes hard against her and disarms her. Her baton soars out of her hand and clacks against the tiles, and she stumbles back.

Suddenly, Lonnie shrieks as electricity crackles along her skin, and she crumples, a red X appearing over her chest.

Adora pants for breath and nudges Lonnie aside with her boot.

Anger boils in Catra’s veins, and she lunges recklessly to wrestle the baton from Adora’s grip and strike it against her chest plate.

Adora falls to one knee as a red X sears to life over her chest, and Catra releases the baton. 

“I had that handled, Adora!” Catra cries angrily. “You didn’t need to try and save me.”

“I wasn’t!” Adora rises and snatches back her baton. “I was taking out a competitor. And look, now you won.”

“Because you let me win.” Catra closes her eyes and lashes her tail. “I’ll never earn Shadow-Weaver’s respect - “

“Why do you care about her?” Adora asks, pain in her voice. “You’re worth more than just her opinion - “

“Easy for you to say.” Catra stalks away before Adora can say anymore, just as the simulation dissipates.

“Well, done cadets,” their trainer praises, looking around. “Especially you, Adora.”

Catra curls her lip in disgust.

“Yes, well done, Adora,” Shadow-Weaver’s voice rings out as the sorceress makes her way into view. Her voice sounds hoarse, and she’s clutching at her chest with one hand as black tendrils of hair cling to her mask. “I will be speaking with you and Catra about this training session.”

The trainer shoots a disgruntled look in Shadow-Weaver’s direction that rapidly morphs into fear. “Yes, everybody else, dismissed. Catra, Adora, stay.”

Catra stands, waiting impatiently her ears twitching, and hears footsteps as Adora approaches her. They stand apart, close, and yet not touching; Catra can feel the warmth of Adora’s skin so close to hers, and it makes her nerves vibrate. Part of her wants to turn and claw Adora; part of her wants to run; part of her wants to take Adora’s hand and whisk her far, far away.

Her jaw clenches, knowing none of those possibilities are even options right now, and lashes her tail angrily as Shadow-Weaver approaches them. Lacking her usual smooth glide, she’s now faltering and stumbling, and her breathing comes in wheezing gasps.

“Are you sick, Shadow-Weaver?” Catra asks incredulously.

Shadow-Weaver jerks her head up, and her white eyes glow dangerously bright. “No,” she rasps, The sorceress straightens up and glares at Catra. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“Standing here?” Catra responds.

Shadow-Weaver snarls. “You know what I mean. You shouldn’t have won this fight.”

“Well, I did,” Catra twitches her tail tip, anger scorching low in the pit of her stomach.

“I can accept loss and failure from you,” Shadow-Weaver continues, “In fact, I expect it. But I will not have you dragging Adora down with you. You are poisonous to her, and you are far too insolent for your own good.”

Catra drops her eyes, and grits her teeth as Shadow-Weaver’s voice grates against her, prickling against her heart like a hundred sharp needles.

“Adora,” Shadow-Weaver purrs, pausing beside Adora and cupping the young Cadet’s cheek in her hand. “You are so strong, and yet your friendship with Catra makes you weak. Give her up. And accept your true destiny. Your true authority and power. You could be so great. Just.  _ Let. Her. Go. _ ”

Adora stares up at Shadow-Weaver, her eyes wide, seemingly entranced by the sorceress’s words.

Shadow-Weaver moves her hand, up Adora’s jaw to slide through her hair, and Adora pulls away, her eyes narrowing with defiance.

“Just think about it,” Shadow-Weaver says slowly, as she turns away. “Everything you could have.”

“I don’t want power,” Adora retorts, “And I’m not going to give up Catra.”

Shadow-Weaver doesn’t respond as she vanishes around the corner.

Adora turns to Catra.

“Why wouldn’t you give me up?” Catra whips her tail around her ankles. “You’re already Shadow-Weaver’s favorite; you could have everything you’ve ever wanted. I’m the only thing holding you back.”

“You’re not holding me back,” Adora widens her eyes. “You make me stronger. And I wouldn’t give you up. Not for any amount of power. We stick together, remember? I wouldn’t break that promise.”

Catra looks into Adora’s bright blue eyes. “We stick together,” she echoes.

Adora nods, smiles. Her hand intertwines with Catra’s, sliding into all the empty spaces like they were tailor-made just for her. “Let’s sneak out,” she whispers.

“Where to?” Catra looks around the empty room.

Adora takes a long moment to answer. “Somewhere we won’t be found.”

~ ~ ~

The air smells like jasmine and rain, and the ground is warm, heated by the sun. Grass tendrils wave and whisper in a gentle wind, poking up from beneath the beaten earth.

When Adora inhales deeply, she can still detect the sour scent of the Fright Zone, and when she looks back, the enormous expanse stretches out behind her, an ugly bruise on the face of the land. But this place is quiet and peaceful.

“We should come out here more often,” Catra says, echoing Adora’s own inner thoughts. The girl looks more relaxed than Adora has seen her in a while; her eyes are half-closed and her muscles are loose. The red light of the sinking sun plays on her cheekbones, glimmers in the copper and blue depths of her heterochromatic eyes.

_ She’s so pretty,  _ Adora thinks absentmindedly, watching the wind tousle her friend’s dark locks.

“We should,” Adora agrees, shaking from her daze. “But maybe it’s too dangerous. We almost got caught several times just coming out here.”

“Who cares?” Catra’s eyes sparkle with the light of adventure, and she’s grinning wildly. “Shadow-Weaver will be mad at us even if we don’t do anything wrong at all.” her eyes darken. “Well, she’ll be mad at me.”

Adora reaches for Catra’s hand, but Catra pulls it away, looking resentful.

Adora sighs quietly. A retort bubbles up to her lips, but she suppresses it; she supposes she can’t really blame Catra for being annoyed about Shadow-Weaver’s favoritism.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, until Catra’s voice once again breaks through it. “At least we have the Look-Out, though.”

Adora smiles, nods in silent agreement.

“Do you ever…” Catra bites her lip, fastening on Adora’s, her eyes wide and piercing with intensity, “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we could just… run away? From everything?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Adora admits, “But it would be dangerous. And we have to protect the Horde.”

Catra nods, and hesitates for a long moment, then says quietly, “I know we can’t run away forever, but can we at least run away for tonight?”

“Sure… whatever that means,” Adora yelps as Catra tackles her, and they roll together in the grass, their laughter ringing out as they wrestle, shrieking each other’s names, breathless, exhilarated.

Catra disentangles herself and falls back, clutching at her stomach, doubled over giggling. The sight causes something inside of Adora to melt and send warmth through her whole body.

Adora cups her hand over her mouth and dissolves into laughter as well as the contagious sound of her best friend’s laughter rings in her ears.

Tears stream down her cheeks and she wipes them away, her sides aching. When she looks up, her eyes lock on Catra’s, which are also shimmering with tears of laughter.

Catra raises her head, smirking, and leans forward to tap Adora on the forehead, between her eyes. Adora bats her hand away, and Catra leaps at her.

They fall in a tangle of limbs and laughter, bathed in the sun’s rays.


	5. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora and Catra are 14 years old. The Horde has hit a low point after a harsh defeat, and Catra is furious after Shadow-Weaver somehow blamed her for being the cause. They both end up discussing what their futures will be. Catra realises that she doesn't really want to rule. All she wants is Adora by her side.  
> Adora can tell Catra is more bothered by Shadow-Weaver’s most recent lecture than she’ll actually let on. In the barracks, Catra starts having a nightmare, and Adora wakes her and consoles her.

Amber light bathes the uneven structures of the Fright Zone, outlining the ragged edges, tainting the smoke that rises in heavy plumes.

“Hurry up!” Catra calls mockingly. Her tail coils around the railing as she perches atop it, looking down.

Adora climbs up the rope and swings her legs over the railing. “Says the girl who’s late to every single training session.”

Catra searches for a retort, and when none is forthcoming, she just sticks out her tongue.

Adora hauls the rope up and bundles it up, and shoves Catra out of the way as she races over to the opposite railing. “Hurry up,” she says smugly, jumping up onto the railing. Then she yelps as she overbalances and Catra lunges forward to catch her by the wrist.

“You’re such an idiot,” Catra says, her voice torn between teasing mockery and affection.

Their eyes lock. Catra can hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears as Adora stares at her, cheeks peppered with a red blush, eyes wide.

Catra pulls her eyes away, releases Adora’s wrist, and jumps up onto the railing as barely restrained emotions seeth in her heart.

Adora leans up against it beside her, looking out over the wrecked landscape with a thoughtful expression. “I can’t believe the Horde actually failed to take over Thaymor.”

Catra scoffs under her breath, as a conflicted mess of anger and pain roils inside of her, tumbling like broken glass. “Maybe it’s because one of their main leaders is too busy blaming the entire failure on one cadet,”

Adora’s eyes soften, and she reaches out to place a hand on Catra’s shoulder, but Catra shies away.

Adora’s hand drops, and she sighs. “I’m sorry, Catra. For what Shadow-Weaver said to you. It was unfair - “

“Unfair?” Catra says incredulously. Her tail lashes as she digs her claws into the metal railing beneath her. “She blamed me for the failure of our assault on Thaymor! Told me that if I wasn’t bothering the other soldiers constantly, and distracting her, she would have been able to see more clearly the outcome, and how to prepare for it.” a faint prickling sensation starts building behind her eyes. She scrapes her claws across the metal as anger, hot and heady, sweeps over her, consumes her. Her vision blurs red with both anger and tears.

Forcefully, she blinks back the tears and hears Adora’s voice, low, quiet, soothing. “I know.”

“She just wanted someone to blame, and I happened to be in her general vicinity,” Catra growls. 

“I know, but you can’t let her get to you, that’s what she wants!” Adora says. Her hand slips into Catra’s.

“Easy enough for you to say,” Catra shoots a disgruntled look at Adora, but she doesn’t let Adora’s hand go. It’s warm in hers, and the strength in Adora’s steady grasp helps center Catra as her emotions whirl rapidly out of control.

“You’ll prove her wrong,” Adora says, “Someday. Then she’ll have to see that you’re stronger than she thinks.”

Catra looks out at the Fright Zone. “Someday,” she echoes. Her grip tightens on the railing. “Someday we’ll be the ones calling the shots. We’ll prove her wrong. We’ll rule over this waste. And we’ll…  _ I’ll  _ show Shadow-Weaver that she’s the worthless one.”

“Do you really want to rule?” Adora asks quietly. “Rule the Fright Zone?”

A quiet wind whispers through Catra’s hair, cool on her face, still heated from her outburst. “Yeah, of course,” her brows knit as she looks at Adora. Something is quivering on the air, a heavy, restless tension that makes the hairs rise on the back of her neck. “That’s what we’ve always planned. The two of us, side-by-side.”

A soft smile lights up Adora’s face, and Catra’s heart flutters nervously hummingbird wings masking the deeper, turbulent emotions constantly held at bay inside her heart.

“Yeah. Think about what we could do as Force Captains.”

Catra relaxes as the strange, electric tension fades away, though it still leaves her nerves twinging anxiously. “Like what?”

“We could restore order to the world that’s been so destroyed by the Princesses…” Adora’s voice is breathless, “We could change everything. We could  _ fix  _ everything, Catra! We could lead the Horde to greatness, and save the world from the Princesses. We could be heroes.”

A noncommittal sound hums in Catra’s throat. Maybe Adora is right. But all Catra can really think about is the future she can see ahead. A future where Shadow-Weaver has no power over her, where she’s the one in charge. With Adora at her side, just like she is now, with that familiar sparkle in her eyes. Together, side-by-side, they could take over the whole world.

It’s not about ruling. Not really. It’s about Adora. It always has been. And it probably always will be. At least for Catra, anyways.

~

The threadbare blankets provide only the slightest comfort from the chilly air. Adora shivers and leans back against the pillow, doing her best to tune out the familiar sound of Lonnie’s shouting as she berates Kyle for yet another mishap.

“Would you be quiet?” Catra’s irritable voice breaks through Lonnie’s tirade as the feline curls up in her usual place at the edge of Adora’s bed.

“Would you mind your own business?” Lonnie retorts.

“It is my business when I’m trying to sleep,” Catra twitches her tail restlessly.

Rogelio grumbles something from his place atop his bunk, perhaps agreeing with Catra, and Lonnie subsides into annoyed mumbling.

Adora looks at Catra, and her brows knit with concern. Her friend has curled up tightly, her tail coiled over her body, her head tucked into her side. She only curls up that tight when she’s in pain. When she’s wishing she could disappear entirely.

The lights flicker off, plunging the room into darkness. “Catra?” Adora whispers. “Are you asleep?”

Catra stirs slightly with a rustling sound. “Yes.”

“Are you - “

“I said I’m asleep.”

Adora slumps back into the pillows. She can always tell when Catra is upset, and she’s sure she knows what has Catra distressed right now.

Adora doesn’t say anything, knowing she should probably leave Catra alone if that’s what she wants, but even when her eyes close, sleep evades her.

A few minutes pass in silence. Then Adora hears it. The familiar sound of claws ripping through fabric, and ragged breathing.

She already knows what’s happening, even before she sits up and peers through the dark at Catra, who’s thrashing, her claws catching on the blankets.

“Catra?”

Catra lets out a hiss, followed by a scared whimper, and Adora’s stomach clenches. “Catra!”

She shakes Catra by the shoulder, rather hesitantly, considering that last time she tried to wake Catra from a nightmare, she got clawed.

Catra’s eyes snap open, and she recoils with a hiss.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Adora whispers.

Catra relaxes. Her eyes glimmer with unshed tears as she curls up into the blankets.

“Are you - “ Adora starts tentatively. 

“I’m fine,” Catra lashes her tail angrily and turns her head away.

Several seconds pass, then Catra says reluctantly, “Thank you for waking me up.”

“You’re welcome,” Adora says softly. Her heart swells with love for her guarded mess of a best friend, who can’t despite her best efforts conceal the emotion, the vulnerability beneath the prickly shell.

She reaches out and starts stroking behind Catra’s ear; it’s something she knows Catra likes, even if she would never in a hundred years admit it.

Adora hears Catra purr faintly, and she can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face.

When she’s sure Catra must be asleep, she whispers into the dark, “I love you.”

Her throat constricts. She refuses to acknowledge the weight of the words and instead lies down in an attempt to sleep, but the simple statement, spoken from her own lips, keeps her awake.


	6. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora and Catra are sixteen years old. Adora, bothered that Catra missed another simulation, goes to find her, and realises why she missed it. Catra is sick and insists that they go up to the Look-Out.  
> While up in their secret place, her mind inhibited by the fever, Catra finally acts on the emotions that she's been pushing down for so long.

“Excellent job, Adora,” the trainer praises.

Adora lowers her baton and nods, distracted.

“Alright, everyone, go, And if anyone runs into Catra, could they tell her that training isn’t just an option she can disregard whenever she chooses to.”

Adora sighs in exasperation as she follows Lonnie and the others back to the barracks.

Sweat drips down her neck, and her muscles ache, but it’s worth it.

_Catra has big dreams of ruling the Fright Zone, but she sure doesn’t act like she cares._

Grumbling under her breath, she ducks down to look around her bunk for the clothes she had strewn over the blankets earlier that morning and instead sees Catra curled up in the tiny alcove in the wall, watching Adora.

“Catra!” Adora hisses. “What are you doing here? You missed training.”

“I know that,”

Something twists in Adora’s stomach. Catra’s voice is a weak, shaky rasp, lacking her usual ferocity.

Adora’s stomach sinks as Catra starts coughing, her whole body heaving.

“You’re sick,” Adora crawls over to Catra, her throat tightening. She raises her mask ever so slightly, and presses a hand to her forehead, but recoils when she feels the heat of Catra’s skin against her palm.

“Obviously,” Catra presses back against the wall, her eyes wide, wary.

“Why didn’t you… tell anyone?” Adora asks, her throat tightening with worry.

Catra scoffs, then dissolves into another coughing spasm that racks her body. “Who would I tell?”

“The medics?” Adora asks uncertainly.

Catra’s throat strains as she swallows, and Adora’s stomach twists even further into knots as she sees Catra wince in pain. “Right. I would only get lectured if I went to the medic’s right now. Either for my weakness in allowing myself to get sick or for bothering them.”

Adora sighs, knowing Catra is right. That’s how it’s always been in the Horde. It was a lesson that both girls learned early on.

Catra’s chest heaves as she pulls in air, and hisses in discomfort, her ears flat against her head.. “I don’t want to be stuck in here anymore. Let’s go,”

“Go where?” Adora asks, bewildered.

Catra chuckles, but it fades away into a faint rasping sound. “Where do you think?”

~

There’s something kind of surreal about the climb. The edges of Catra’s vision are blurry and faded, and she can hardly feel her limbs.

She leaps across a gap and lands heavily in a mess of uncoordinated limbs. Her muscles jolt painfully, and she hisses as she scrambles upright.

With one last clumsy leap, she hooks her claws into the metal and hauls herself over the gate. Her muscles tremble with exertion, and black spots dance in her eyes as she tumbles over the edge, and lands awkwardly.

Her head pounds, and nausea surges and swells in her stomach.

“For the record, I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Adora’s voice reaches her seemingly from far away, but then Adora is right there, kneeling in front of her.

“Says the literal queen of bad ideas,” Catra retorts. 

“I’m the queen of bad ideas?!” Adora protests. “You’re the one who clawed the eye of a full-grown Horde soldier because you thought she had a ‘dumb face’!”

“She does!”

Adora giggles and Catra can only stare at her, entranced by the sound, by the way the golden amber light glows in her eyes.

Adora’s giggling subsides, and she drops down to sit cross-legged across from Catra. “So, what exactly is your plan? To sleep up here?”

Catra searches to come up with a retort, but fails. Her thoughts are jumbled and tangled up. She can’t really remember why she wanted to come up here. Maybe to be alone with Adora? She’s not sure. It all seems to blur together now.

A wave of nausea hits her, and another coughing spasm shakes her body. When it fades away, she’s extremely light-headed and moves to lean against the hard railing. The metal pinches her skin beneath the fabric of her shirt, but she barely feels it.

Adora’s arm is around her shoulders, and maybe normally Catra would pull away from the physical contact; not because she really ever minds it, but because giving in to her craving is a sign of showing weakness, and she can’t bear the thought of being weak. Of being vulnerable.

But now, she melts into Adora, unable to resist, because she’s so warm, and she feels like security, like safety, like everything Catra’s always ached for.

Catra rests her head on Adora’s shoulder and presses her face into the crease of her best friend’s neck. Adora’s skin smells like sweat, like citrus from the cheap soap in the showers, mingling with that distinctive scent that’s purely _Adora_ , the scent that Catra is so familiar with.

Something stirs in Catra’s chest, something warm and longing, something she’s all-too-familiar with. Normally, she would push it down, ignore it, pretend it’s just her imagination. But now her head is swimming with silver cloud, and the world is shifting in and out of alignment, and she can hardly even string together thoughts, and right now she can’t just push it down.

So she finally gives in to it.

Her hand interlaces with Adora’s, and she purrs Adora’s name, her tongue tripping over the vowels she usually speaks with ease.

“Catra?” Adora turns her head to look at her. Her cheeks are blushed red. Her eyes are so blue.

Maybe it’s an impulse, maybe it’s just her fever inhibiting her thoughts. Maybe it's the way she's been pressing down her feelings for so many years now, compressing them down and down inside of her, denying them with everything she is, so scared to care, to admit that she cares. But Adora is looking at her like _that,_ like she's worth the whole world and more, and the pinprick of heat in Catra's chest explodes and races up and down her limbs. The emotions she's been pushing down for so long ache through her whole body, vibrate in her heart, and she can't resist.

She reaches up and presses her lips against Adora's.

It’s clumsy, and messy, and ends far too quickly, but for a few seconds, the rhythm of Adora’s lips moving against hers, the warmth of them, causes her whole world to explode with tiny sparkling lights.

It’s over as quickly as it started. Adora’s eyes are enormous, glassy, stunned.

“You’re such an idiot,” Catra whispers affectionately, the words mangled as they leave her lips.

Then her hand drops at her side, and she slumps back into the railing.

She slips away into unconsciousness, the taste of Adora lingering on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt kind of rushed, but lol idk I tried :)


	7. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora wakes up with Catra, who doesn’t seem to have any memory of the day before, probably due to the fever. Adora, upset and disappointed, acts like it never happened, unsure how to bring it up or confront what it might mean.  
> Adora is acting very strangely around her as the week passes by. Catra starts to piece together that something happened when she was sick with the fever, but she isn’t sure exactly what. She grows sick of Adora’s evasiveness and presses her for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's been a hot minute since I updated. I'm the laziest person ever, but here it is I guess :/

Catra looks beautiful.

She always does, but never more than now, for some reason. The amber light glows on the harsh angles of her cheekbones, on her eyelids, illuminates her long, dark eyelashes as they flutter in her sleep.

Adora brushes a lock of hair back from her forehead, which is sticky with sweat and still warm, but thankfully not burning up anymore. Her fever seems to have broken.

Adora’s fingertips linger over Catra’s skin, and she’s struck by the impulse to slide her hand down Catra’s cheek, to cup her chin. It seems to happen a lot, especially recently. This longing to touch her, to feel her skin, to run her hands through her hair, to kiss her, to taste her lips… 

Heat radiates through Adora’s body at the thought.

She’d never once thought she would know what Catra’s lips would actually feel like against her own. She reaches up and touches her own lips, remembering the sensation, the way her head spun, and her heart pounded out of her chest.

She remembers seeing stars, just for a few seconds. But other than that, it’s all muddled. She was too busy being confused to really enjoy the moment.

Now, she wishes she could kiss her again.

But she’s not sure that she can.

As she has that thought, Catra’s eyes open, and lock onto hers.

Adora’s heart jumps into her throat. “You’re awake,”

Catra nods slowly. “Should I not be?” her voice is raspy with sleep as she sits up and looks around. “Where… why are we up here?”  
Adora stares at her, bewildered. “You were sick, and you asked to come up here.”

Catra’s eyebrows knit together. “Oh, yeah.”

“How do you feel?” Adora presses her palm against Catra’s forehead, and Catra pulls away.

Yep. She’s back to regular Catra.

“I’m… fine,” Catra manages. Her face gleams with sweat in the amber light.

“Are you sure?”

Just as Adora asks the question, Catra falls against the railing and throws up over it.

“Oh, Catra,” Adora leans over and holds back Catra’s hair. Her body radiates heat, and her shirt is sticking to her skin with sweat as her lean body heaves for breath.

Catra falls back, panting for air. “Thanks,” she says begrudgingly.

“No problem,” Adora brushes a strand of hair back from Catra’s forehead on instinct. Catra bristles, but doesn’t protest, for once.

“So,” Adora says awkwardly, drawing back her hand. “We should probably talk.”

Catra raises an eyebrow and leans back against the railing. “About?”

Adora stares at her. “About… what happened. When you were sick. Last night.”

Catra coughs and shakes her head. “You’ll have to fill me in on what exactly you’re talking about.”

Adora narrows her eyes; her immediate thought is that Catra is faking.

Catra looks up, and a mixture of annoyance and bewilderment crosses her face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You really don’t… remember.” Adora says. Catra genuinely looks confused.

“I was practically dying, you can’t expect me to remember every little detail,” Catra points out.

Adora sits back as something in her stomach sinks like a stone. Catra doesn’t remember.

“Well, now you have to tell me what happened,” Catra tugs on her sweaty shirt, making a face.

“It’s nothing,” Adora says. Suddenly she can’t meet Catra’s eyes.

“Oh, come on, you can’t just brush me off, now I have to know,” Catra crosses her arms across her chest. Her hair moves in the wind as she watches Adora expectantly.

“I told you, it’s nothing,” Adora stands up. “Come on, we should get you back down to the barracks.”

“Since when do you make my decisions for me?” Catra says, but she does stand up along with Adora.

“Here, let me help you,” Adora extends a hand to Catra, but Catra shoots her a look.

“I can handle it, Adora,”

Her voice is exasperated and annoyed at the very offer of help. Yep; that’s Adora’s Catra all right.

The sweet, cuddly side of her is gone as quickly as it appeared, buried under the layers of sarcastic scorn the cruel Horde forced her to build.

Adora watches Catra as she pulls herself up onto the railing and slides clumsily down, each movement clearly taking immense effort, judging by the shaking of her limbs.

_ So that’s it.  _ Adora thinks miserably.  _ Catra doesn’t remember, and now she’s back to being… well, Catra. How am I supposed to tell her now?  _

Disappointment weighs heavily in her stomach as she follows her friend back to the barracks.

-

Adora is acting strange. Distant.

Catra’s not really sure what to make of it, only that it bothers her. A lot.

It’s been a week since her sickness, and she can finally wake up without feeling she’s been hit in the face by a Horde robot. So that’s an improvement.

But Adora is just as far away as she was the day when they returned to the barracks, if not more so.

In some ways, she’s just like regular Adora, joking and teasing Catra, competitive as always in training, beating down Catra without a hitch.

But in other ways, she feels so far away.

She’s been avoiding physical contact, which isn’t like her. Even in training, they don’t wrestle like they usually do. And even in the casual ways, like how Adora won’t hold her hand anymore, even when Shadow-Weaver is yelling at them, and draws away when Catra taps her on the forehead, something Catra considers almost a joke between them at this point.

She’s also been avoiding eye contact, which Catra notices especially because the usual numb, dizzy, almost intoxicating rush she always gets without fail when their eyes lock is noticeably absent.

That, combined with her memory of their conversation up at the Look-out when she woke up from her fevered coma, seems to add up to one thing in her mind.

Something big happened while she was sick.

And she’s going to find out what it was.

She corners Adora in the hallway while the Horde cadet is talking with Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio outside the training room. Normally, she would be extremely annoyed about Adora hanging out with the other cadets, but now, she has something more important to deal with.

“Hey, Adora,” she purrs, coming up behind the other girl and resting her hands on her shoulders.

Adora lets out a yelp and spins around. Her cheeks darken, and the sight sends an inexplicable thrill rushing through Catra’s veins, so intense Catra’s head almost swims with it. “Catra! You startled me!”

“How are you not used to that by now?” Lonnie asks, giving Adora an unimpressed look.

Adora stammers something out and shakes her head, Lonnie raises an eyebrow. “Well, we’re going to go steal some of Kyle’s ration bars that he  _ politely offered _ us. Want to come along?”

Kyle shoots Lonnie a terrified look and shrinks further back.

“As much as I love stealing Kyle’s food, we’ll have to decline,” Catra says casually. “Adora and I need to have a conversation.”

Lonnie gives her a strange look. “Alright.”

She leads the other cadets away, dragging Kyle forcefully by the arm.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Catra?” Adora asks; her face is impassive enough, but she can’t hide the faintest tremor in her voice.

“You’ve been acting strange for like a week now,” Catra says immediately. “And you still haven’t told me what happened when I was sick. That thing you said I didn’t remember, that we were supposed to talk about?”

Adora shrugs. “There’s not really much to talk about.”

“You are the worst liar I’ve ever met,” Catra twitches her tail impatiently.

“How many people have you even met?” Adora counters.

“Enough to know that you’re the worst,”

Adora crosses her arms. “I told you it was nothing.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

When Adora still doesn’t say anything, Catra says in exasperation, “Adora, you’d better tell me  _ something,  _ or so help me I will - “

“You kissed me!” Adora blurts out. Her cheeks somehow darken even further as she says it.

Catra stares at Adora, uncomprehending, as the fateful words echo in her head. 

Then - “WHAT?”


	8. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra and Adora have a much-needed conversation.  
> Catra contemplates over what the new relationship might mean, and of course, Shadow-Weaver isn't pleased.

Catra’s expression could almost be hilarious if Adora wasn’t so nervous.

Sweat beads on her palms and they stare at each other for a long moment. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Catra asks.

It’s not the question Adora expects, and she scrambles for a response. Her mouth is dry. “I wasn’t sure... How to tell you. How you would react.”

Catra advances closer, step by step. Her tail whips back and forth.

“Catra…?” Adora says nervously as her best friend stays silent.

Whatever else Adora might have said vanishes as Catra presses her lips against Adora’s.

The rest of the world seems to fade away; Adora can’t feel the cold wall against her back or the way her shoes pinch uncomfortably at her toes. All she can feel is every point of contact with Catra - their lips, the press of their bodies, Catra’s hand when she moves it up to cup Adora’s chin.

Catra’s lips are warm, and chapped, and shouldn’t feel nearly as good as they do against Adora’s.

Adora breathes out something like Catra’s name, lost in the sensation she’s just now realizing she’s always needed - it feels like every single second of her life so far has been leading up to this.

Catra pulls away but stays so close Adora can feel the warmth of her breath. “I guess now you know,” she purrs.

Adora presses her forehead into Catra’s, and stands, inhaling deeply, wishing she could freeze this moment and live in it forever. 

“If I’d known that was how you’d react, I would have told you right away,” Adora whispers.

She hears Catra let out a sharp exhale and grins at her best friend’s reaction.

Until Catra leans in and kisses the smirk right off her lips.

~ ~ ~

It’s hard to navigate the exact boundaries of their relationship now, with so many walls broken down all at once. They’re clearly not just friends, but Catra isn’t sure what the word is for what they’re becoming.

It’s not like the Horde teaches anything about romance; Catra and Adora only ever learned about kissing from Lonnie, who learned about it from some Horde soldiers.

So Catra isn’t sure what it’s called, the way her head spins when her eyes meet Adora’s, and the way her whole body heats up when their skin brushes, and the way she goes numb when they kiss.

But maybe it doesn’t need a name; maybe it just is. And Catra’s content with that. Content with it lasting forever, whatever it is.

She’s wanted it for so much longer than she’ll ever admit, to herself and especially to Adora.

It’s strange how everything has changed, and yet everything is still just the same as it once was. They still wrestle in training, and banter casually in the hallways, and Catra still sleeps curled up at the foot of Adora’s bed. Like nothing has really changed.

But suddenly Catra is aching for Adora whenever she’s gone, in a way she never has before, and she’s feeling things she can’t even begin to process, and it scares her. The intensity of…  _ everything. _

It’s impossible to understand, so Catra doesn’t bother.

At least until Shadow-Weaver pulls them aside about a week later and lectures them about it.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” Catra says boldly, staring up into Shadow-Weaver’s blinding white eyes. “How were we supposed to know it was bad? Nobody has ever told us!”

“You’ve been told relationships are a distraction,” Shadow-Weaver’s voice slithered like a snake as she looked down at the two Cadets.

“But you’ve also told us that loyalty is our greatest strength,” Catra argues. Her tail lashes back and forth in irritation. “And why do you care, anyway?”

Shadow-Weaver looks over at Adora, who’s standing nearby, quiet. Her cheeks are blushed red, and her eyes are wide and almost fearful.

Shadow-Weaver reaches out and strokes Adora’s cheek, entangles her hand in the other girl’s golden locks. “Because, Catra, you’re a distraction to Adora here. You can’t be allowed to interfere with her training.”

“She’s not!” Adora protests.

Shadow-Weaver withdraws her hand and looks over at Catra. “You are not to engage in these acts again. They’re a distraction and a waste of your time. And besides, Adora, you have better things to do than mess around with this… girl,” the sorceress taps Catra under the chin, then glides away, leaving a chill on the air in her wake.

Catra turns around to watch her go, her blood boiling. “I”m not a distraction! Am I?”

“No, you’re not,” Adora reassures her. “Shadow-Weaver’s wrong.”

Catra digs her nails into her palms.

But her anger dies away ever so slightly as Adora leans in to kiss her. Her lips are warm and slightly sweet, and make Catra ache for another world away from this one, a world where they could just… be happy. Together.

Catra leans in closer, practically melting into Adora’s steady warmth.

They don’t say anything as they walk back hand-in-hand, but there’s tension on the air that was absent before, and when Catra lies down at her usual place beside Adora’s feet, she sees Adora tracing her fingertips over the drawings of them etched on the walls.

It takes her a long time to fall asleep that night.


End file.
